


small wonder

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Romance, body switch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2012-09-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 16:44:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12392049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Kitayama didn’t think that working with Fujigaya could get any worse until they turned into Tamamori and Miyata.





	small wonder

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for cotton candy bingo (holding hands in public).

He’s not entirely awake, but he’s coherent enough to know that something isn’t quite right. His toes, for one thing. They’re hanging off the end of the bed, but he also feels the headboard with his arm and that’s just not physically possible, as much as he’d love for it to be.

Then he opens his eyes and finds himself face-to-nose with Miyata.

“Fuck, how much did I drink last night?” he groans, and his voice sounds weird.

Miyata’s eyes pop open and stare at him long enough to be horribly uncomfortable. “Tama-chan, what are you doing in my bed?”

“How much did _you_ drink last night, Miyacchi?” he replies. “I’m Kitayama.”

“Miyacchi?” Miyata makes an annoyed face that Kitayama doesn’t think he’s ever seen on him, then stretches out onto his back. “This isn’t my bed.”

“Did you just call me ‘Tama-chan’?” Kitayama asks, repeating Miyata’s action and banging both wrists on the headboard while his feet still hang off the other end. “ _Ow_. What the fuck kind of tiny ass bed is this?”

Suddenly Miyata sits straight up, turning to stare at him like he’s never seen him before. “You really are Kitayama.”

Kitayama yawns. “Calm down, I don’t think anything happened. Are you sore?”

“I…” Miyata tilts his head contemplatively, then turns and gets out of bed without finishing his sentence. Kitayama is pleased to see that the other man is wearing pajama pants, though he pauses and examines himself in the mirror with a precise scrutiny that reminds him of someone else. Arms behind his head, Kitayama watches as Miyata roots around on the dresser until he finds a hand mirror.

When Miyata shoves it in his face, Tamamori is looking back at him.

Kitayama screams, and it sounds every bit as feminine as Tamamori’s usual shriek.

There’s a two-second delay before Miyata can cover his mouth, and Kitayama instantly cringes because Miyata lives at _home_ with his _family_ and that can’t have sounded good.

“Yuuta!” a voice calls from the other side of the door, sounding entirely too amused, and Kitayama realizes they’re at _Tamamori’s_ house. “I thought you two were taking a break until Dream Boys was over? I should have known you wouldn’t last two weeks.”

Miyata gapes at Kitayama, looking traumatized, and Kitayama’s positive he has a similar expression on his face.

“I thought I saw a spider!” Kitayama calls back, wincing when Tamamori’s voice cracks on him.

“Sure, whatever you say,” Tamamori’s mom replies. “Just keep it down, okay? You know your father is still getting used to the two of you together like this.”

Her footsteps disappear and all Kitayama can do is shake his head at Miyata. “What happened, Miyacchi?”

The way Miyata bites his bottom lip is reminiscent of someone as well, as much as Kitayama doesn’t want to believe it.

“I’m not Miyata.”

*

“Aniki, get your lazy ass up.”

Miyata’s smacked in the face with a pillow and momentarily confused, because that’s not his brother’s voice. It’s Fujigaya’s brother, and Miyata opens his eyes to find himself in Fujigaya’s room, sprawled across his bed and looking up at an annoyed Yuusuke.

“You look terrified,” Yuusuke says, jumping back to give him an odd look. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Miyata replies, his voice huskier than normal. “Sorry.”

Now Yuusuke raises an eyebrow. “Are you on drugs?”

Miyata rolls his eyes and shoves him. “Of course not, brat.”

“Ah, that’s better.” Yuusuke tries to put him in a headlock, then clicks his tongue just like his _real_ older brother when Miyata doesn’t fight him. “You’re lame this morning. Anyway, Miyata-kun just called the house line because you didn’t answer your cell and said it was urgent.”

“What?” Miyata asks, his mind blank. “But _I’m_ —”

“If it was anyone else, I would have told them to fuck off,” Yuusuke goes on, “but Miyata-kun is cool.”

Miyata feels smug and smiles at the middle Fujigaya son. “I’m glad you think so.”

“You’re seriously weirding me out,” Yuusuke replies, “and if I find out you’re doing drugs without me, I’m going to be so mad at you.”

Then he leaves, and Miyata stares after him as he wonders what the hell just happened. Fujigaya’s mirror is right next to the door, and Miyata ends up looking into it a lot longer than he should, because those aren’t his own eyes blinking wide at him.

It takes him entirely too long to find Fujigaya’s cell phone in last night’s pants on the floor, where he finds seven missed calls from his own number as well as Tamamori’s. Swallowing hard, he dials himself and nearly faints when his own voice answers the phone.

“Who the fuck are you,” the other person demands, and Miyata had no idea he could sound so scary until right now.

“M-Miyata,” he sputters out. “What happened?”

“That means Tamamori is at Kitayama’s place,” his voice tells him, and someone next to him breathes a sigh of relief. “It looks like we just switched in pairs.”

“We _what_?” Miyata asks, starting to get a little panicked. “Does this mean Taipi is in my body?”

“Yes,” Fujigaya replies, not sounding happy about it at all, “and Kitayama is in Tamamori’s.”

Suddenly Miyata remembers where he slept last night and feels his neck grow hot. “Um, about me and Tama-chan—”

“I already know more than I ever wanted to, in my entire life,” Fujigaya says firmly. “What’s important now is figuring out what the fuck happened so we can _reverse_ it, because all four of us have important work to do _today_ and there’s no way Kitayama can pull off Tama’s role in Dream Boys with, like, six hours notice.”

“You can’t do Miyacchi’s either, asshole,” Tamamori’s voice grumbles.

“Calm down,” Miyata tells them, and it comes out much more confident and relaxed than he’d intended. “Let’s meet at Kitayama’s place, because if Tama-chan really is in his body, he’s never waking up on his own.”

“I’m going to have to break into my own apartment,” Kitayama says incredulously. “I don’t remember giving any of you a spare key.”

“Is the ringer of your cell phone on?” Miyata asks. “He’ll get up if it’s annoying enough.”

“Should be,” Kitayama replies. “Let’s all call him until he answers.”

“As we _move_ ,” Fujigaya adds, and Miyata hangs up with an acknowledging grunt.

He begs off breakfast from Fujigaya’s mom and tries not to look too happy as he grumbles about Kitayama calling a meeting before their drama filming; she calls after him to make sure he eats some fruit today because he looks weaker than usual. Miyata realizes too late that he’s taking the train as _Fujigaya_ , who is arguably the most popular member of the group and something like a sexual icon, but luckily the Monday morning commuters don’t seem too interested in ambushing him.

It’s he who finally gets through to Tamamori, and it’s so surreal to hear his cute morning whine in Kitayama’s voice. “What do you _want_ , Gaya? Why is my ringtone ear-piercing rock music? And where is Miyacchi?”

Miyata beams at being third on Tamamori’s list of complaints. “Unlock Kitamitsu’s front door for us, please. And yes, you’re at his apartment.”

“The fuck—” Tamamori starts to say, but Miyata ends the call. He feels bad for leaving Tamamori hanging like that, but he can’t really get into any explanations on a train full of people.

One of the younger women across the car catches his eye and gives him such a wicked leer that his cheeks heat up. Miyata doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him like that in his life, including Tamamori. He has a brief pang of jealousy toward Fujigaya for being so undeniably gorgeous, but then he realizes that right now _he_ is, too.

Miyata grins back at her, and for a second he thinks she’s going to faint. He can already see the Internet rumors— _I saw Fujigaya-kun on the train this morning and he smiled at me! A real, big smile! I’m so happy!_ —and feels pretty good about himself.

If he’s going to be stuck in Fujigaya’s body, he may as well enjoy it while it lasts.

*

Tamamori’s still in bed when three people start banging on the door, but he’s wide awake and staring unseeingly as he curls up into a small ball now that he can do so without feeling like a pretzel.

Kitayama’s phone goes off again, and Tamamori decides that punching him in the face would be much more satisfying than throwing his phone against the wall. Except that when he gets to the door, everyone is so much taller than him and he has to take a step back to see them all.

Fujigaya rushes to pull him into his arms and Tamamori knows instantly that it’s really Miyata, leaning up on his toes to rest his chin on Miyata’s shoulder. Almost as quickly they’re forced apart, and Tamamori’s momentarily dazed at being seized by his own arms before he notices the uncharacteristically pissed-off look on Miyata’s physical face.

“Rule number one—nobody does anything disrespectful with someone else’s body,” Miyata’s voice hisses at him, and Tamamori feels sheepish and a little relieved. He’d been wondering how to tell everyone about him finally giving in to Miyata’s very persistent and very real affections, and now he doesn’t have to worry about it.

“Hugging isn’t disrespectful,” the actual Miyata argues, using Fujigaya’s pout to its full effect, but these are the last two people it would work on.

“I refuse to let you fuck me with _his_ dick,” Tamamori’s own voice says to Miyata while pointing at Fujigaya.

Tamamori shakes his head as he brings his smaller hands to his face. “There are so many things that are wrong with that sentence.”

“The good news is,” Fujigaya says pointedly, calling the attention away from what Tamamori is sure is everyone’s failure at getting that mental image out of their heads, “we’ll be okay for the musical. Kitayama and I realized on the way here that we know all of the songs and dances, and we even ran through a couple scenes to be sure.”

“Must come with the body,” Kitayama adds with a shrug. “Not complaining.”

Miyata nods. “I saw Taipi’s drama lines and directions in my head, too. It’s the last episode, right?”

“Yeah,” Fujigaya says, and Tamamori calms down as he sees Miyata’s smile for the first time since they got here.

All three of them look at Tamamori, who yawns so widely that his jaw pops.

“I’m sure he knows Kitamitsu’s lines, too,” Miyata says helpfully.

“You’re all staying here until further notice,” Kitayama declares, and Tamamori bristles a little at hearing that tone of authority coming from his own voice. “It’s too hard to keep up the act with your parents and siblings and oh my god, Tama-chan, your _mother_ knows that you two have sex?”

Fujigaya’s looking around the room, probably for something to bang his head against, but Tamamori just shrugs. “My mom knows everything. We’re close.”

“What did you _do_?” Miyata asks the other two suddenly, and Tamamori winces at unfavorable scenarios flying around in his head.

“Kitayama screamed like a little bitch and Tama’s mom thought that Miyata was giving it to him,” Fujigaya says tonelessly, wrinkling up Miyata’s big nose in disgust, and Tamamori has to stifle a laugh because it’s almost cute.

“I don’t scream, anyway,” he says, because it’s true, and because he takes a bit of sadistic joy in the way both Fujigaya and Kitayama bring their palms to their foreheads.

“Fujigaya and Miyata on the couch,” Kitayama directs, rolling his eyes at Fujigaya’s obvious disapproval. “It pulls out, idiot. Tama-chan and I will sleep in my room.”

Miyata gasps as Fujigaya’s features light up on his face. “Maybe if we go back to sleep, we’ll wake up and everything will be normal again.”

“You make me look weird when you do that,” Fujigaya tells him. “Remember, you have to act like me if you don’t want to arouse suspicion.”

“And _you two_ have to act like us,” Tamamori replies, folding his arms as he takes in their identical expressions of fear. “Good luck with that.”

“Let’s just make it through the day,” Kitayama says. “We’ll meet back here tonight.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Miyata starts, and the others look at him. “Happy birthday, Kitamitsu.”

“Just what I always wanted,” Kitayama hisses through his teeth, and Tamamori makes a mental note never to make that face when he’s back in his body, because damn is it ugly.

*

“Seriously, what did you do?” Fujigaya asks quietly as they walk up to the theater. “Some kind of midget magic or something?”

“How dumb are you really,” Kitayama mumbles in response, though Fujigaya notices that the way he carries himself in Tamamori’s body is quite smug. “Magic doesn’t exist, idiot.”

Fujigaya grabs Kitayama’s arm and stares hard into his face. “ _Then explain this_.”

“Oh, there you are!” someone chirps from the back entrance, and Fujigaya’s frown disappears at the sight of Hikaru. He hasn’t seen that guy for awhile. “You two really aren’t fooling anyone, you know?”

“What,” both Fujigaya and Kitayama deadpan, and Fujigaya lets go of Kitayama’s arm like it had burned him.

Hikaru just grins at them and lowers his voice. “It’s _okay_ ,” he insists. “I’m the last person to judge you. As long as you’re both happy, right?”

“Where’s Senga?” Fujigaya asks crisply. “We have to tell you both something.”

“Backstage, of course,” Hikaru replies, looking jubilant at the news he clearly thinks Miyata and Tamamori are about to share with him, and Fujigaya keeps his distance from both of them as Miyata’s legs carry him exactly where he’s supposed to be.

“Something’s wrong,” is the first thing Senga says upon seeing their faces, and Fujigaya wants to hug him for noticing. “Did you two have a fight?”

So much for that idea. “You guys aren’t going to believe this,” he begins, and after a few minutes of hushed whispering—and unnecessary interruptions from Kitayama—he’s gone through the entire morning up until this point, minus the details about Miyata and Tamamori. Despite being in their bodies, that’s really their business to tell, Fujigaya decides.

“I wouldn’t believe you, but,” Senga starts, pausing to walk right up to Fujigaya’s face and stare into his eyes, “you’re really not Miyacchi at all.”

“I’ve never seen Miyacchi frown so much,” Hikaru adds. “It’s disheartening.”

“But Tama-chan is just like normal,” Senga goes on, “though he and Kitamitsu are a bit alike to begin with.”

“Being tall is fucking awesome,” Kitayama inputs, standing up incredibly straight and looking over all of their heads. “I bet I can train his body to skate better, too.”

Fujigaya blinks at him. “Meanwhile, I have to look like _this_ and pretend to be obsessed with you.”

“Another day, another _Duet_ shoot, huh?” Senga teases, and Fujigaya cuts his eyes over to glare at him. “Wow, Miyacchi really has it in him to be venomous. I’m glad he doesn’t act like this for real.”

“You guys know the lines and everything, right?” Hikaru asks suddenly, then sighs in relief when they both nod. “Oh, good, so the only problem is _acting_ like Miyata and Tamamori.”

“When you put it like that…” Fujigaya trails off, and his sigh is anything but relief as he turns to look at Kitayama contemplatively.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about, anyway,” Kitayama says airily. “This will be the easiest day of work you’ve ever had.”

Fujigaya thinks about that as they get into costume and do last-minute run-throughs with the rest of the cast. He hasn’t had an actual role in Dream Boys before, but Miyata’s isn’t nearly as big as Tamamori’s and he doesn’t have anything else going on right now. No dramas, no solos, no promotions. He’ll get to go back to Kitayama’s place tonight and rest, while the real Miyata has a meeting-slash-photoshoot for Fujigaya’s fall drama after a full day of shooting for his summer one.

“I wonder if Miyacchi can handle my life,” Fujigaya says quietly as the curtain rises, and Kitayama twitches as he reaches for Fujigaya’s hand, their fingers lacing naturally together.

*

Kitayama hopes that Tamamori’s character is supposed to have a constant flush on his face, because all of the lines and singing and dancing isn’t enough to make him forget what his new body had done on impulse right before the show started. Tamamori loves Miyata, he knows, and even if he didn’t know, it’s obvious that Tamamori’s body is drawn to Miyata’s despite his usual reluctance. They’re like two magnets he keeps trying to pry apart.

Kitayama physically couldn’t stop himself from comforting Fujigaya during his rare moment of uncertainty, and it’s probably the most embarrassing thing he’s ever done in his life—and he embarrasses himself for a _living_. The most disturbing part wasn’t the actual contact, though, it was the way he had felt the second their skin touched. It was something like a spark, filling him with good feelings that he’s up until now only associated with things like winning a contest or being praised by someone important. Like everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.

This, Kitayama concludes as he executes meticulous fight choreography with Kamenashi in a laser boxing ring, must be what love feels like.

“About that,” Kitayama hisses between scenes, and Fujigaya makes Miyata’s face do something very strange and out of character for both of them. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” Fujigaya replies, not meeting his eyes. “Just pretend to be Tama-chan, and I’ll pretend to be Miyacchi. That’s the only way we’re going to get through this. I don’t mind Tama-chan that much, so it will be easier if I focus on him instead of you.”

“You are such an asshole!” Kitayama blurts out, as shocked as Fujigaya is at his sudden exclamation. He supposes Tamamori is much more sensitive than he is. “I don’t want to be like this any more than you do—”

“Oh, bullshit,” Fujigaya interrupts, then pauses at the juniors who stop in their tracks because Miyata-senpai and Tamamori-senpai _never_ get loud with each other. Flashing his best idol grin, Fujigaya grabs Kitayama by the arm and yanks him behind a costume rack, which is the only privacy they’re going to get anytime soon.

“This isn’t subtle at all,” Kitayama tells him, ducking a little to hide the top of his head from view, “and I doubt they really make out behind costume racks in the middle of a show.”

“Don’t you dare stand there and tell me that you’re not enjoying the fuck out of this,” Fujigaya growls, making Miyata’s eyes more lethal than Kitayama ever expected they could be. “You’re the tallest, the champ in fucking Dream Boys, and you have _me_ in the absolute worst situation possible.”

“Because my happiness rides on your misery,” Kitayama says dryly. “Don’t be so full of yourself. Besides, I have to work with you all day everyday no matter _whose_ bodies we are in. Why would I intentionally make my own life harder by having to put up with even more of your bitching?”

Fujigaya stares at him for so long that Kitayama gets uncomfortable, because Tamamori’s body is yelling at him to get closer and it takes all of Kitayama’s mental power to stop it. Miyata’s face has never been this tempting before, especially with Fujigaya’s unconscious habit of poking his tongue into his cheek and moving his lips. Looking at Miyata’s mouth brings forth a memory that isn’t Kitayama’s, a firm weight moving on top of him in the dark with mixed grunts and a throb somewhere deep inside him, and Kitayama jumps back as the pull toward Fujigaya becomes too much.

“I’m in the next scene,” Kitayama mutters, then proceeds to trip over everything on his way out of the costume rack. It earns the attention of everyone backstage, who just shake their heads and give him sympathetic looks because they’re used to Tamamori falling all over the place.

Kitayama doesn’t look at Fujigaya offstage for the rest of the show, and he’s never felt so grateful to make it through any single performance before. There’s still another one tonight, but he should be much calmer by then. If he stays away from Fujigaya.

There’s a missed call on Tamamori’s phone from Kitayama’s mother’s number, and bewilderedly Kitayama dials it as they change for the short break between shows.

“Happy birthday, Hiro!” she answers, and Kitayama pauses with his shirt halfway over his head. “I know you’re supposed to be Tamamori-kun right now, but you’re still you in there and what kind of mother would I be if I didn’t give you birthday wishes?”

“You know?” Kitayama asks, lowering his voice to a whisper. “That we…switched?”

“Of course I know!” his mother replies, huffing indignantly. “I know my own son, after all. Tamamori-kun didn’t get three words in before I asked him who he was. It was your voice, but not your mind.”

Kitayama just grunts, unable to think of anything else to say.

“So how’s it going?” she asks excitedly. “Being Tamamori-kun. It’s different, right? Is the musical fun? I managed to get a ticket to the show tonight to see you! Tamamori’s mom has an extra one.”

Kitayama has to sit down. “Does she know, too?”

“Honey, we’re your _mothers_ ,” she answers simply. “Fujigaya-san was concerned the minute she got a text from Taisuke-kun saying that he’s staying at your place tonight. She had thought that he was entirely too pleasant this morning, though that was really Miyata-kun.”

“This is so messed up, Mom,” Kitayama finally breaks down, shoving his face into his locker for some semblance of privacy. “I didn’t think that working with Taisuke could be any worse, and then we turned into _them_.”

He doesn’t plan on going into detail, though his mother probably already knows. “It will be okay,” she says soothingly, and Kitayama instantly calms down. “Just make it through the day. I’ll see you tonight, okay? I love you.”

She hangs up before he can reply, and Kitayama holds his head in the locker until he feels a gentle pat to his shoulder. He expects it to be Senga or Hikaru, maybe even Kamenashi (who has no idea that anything out of the ordinary is going on), but when he turns around, he sees Miyata’s eyes on him, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“I’m really not in the mood for your shit right now,” Kitayama grumbles, and Miyata’s nose twitches at him.

Then he’s pulled into a hug so strong and warm that he can’t help but melt into it, his long limbs turning into jelly as Fujigaya squeezes all of his worries right out of him. It’s the first long, deep breath he’s taken since he woke up, his hands automatically clutching onto Miyata’s back while he presses his nose into Miyata’s hair and feels flooded by familiar comfort he hasn’t experienced before.

“He’s wanted to do this to you _all day_ ,” Fujigaya says. “Don’t get the wrong idea.”

“Shut up,” Kitayama says, Tamamori’s voice dangerously close to cracking again as he closes his eyes and breathes again. “Just shut up.”

*

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were being awfully vain,” Tamamori says as he catches Miyata looking at himself in the mirror for the thousandth time.

“I can’t help it,” Miyata replies, pressing his fingers into Fujigaya’s cheekbones and pulling down his single eyelids. “Taipi has such a beautiful face, I still can’t believe that I get to wear it.”

“Hey,” Tamamori says, grabbing Miyata by the chin to glare at him, and Miyata doesn’t think he could ever get used to looking down at Kitayama with his feelings for Tamamori. “Miyacchi is perfect as he is.”

Miyata feels his cheeks flush, but Tamamori stops him from seeing for himself what it looks like on Fujigaya’s face. “Thanks, Tama-chan.”

“Is Gaya prettier than me now?” Tamamori asks, making Kitayama pout cutely like a child. “I mean my real face, not Kitamitsu’s.”

“Of course not,” Miyata says, inconspicuously reaching for Tamamori’s hand behind the makeup chair. “I would be honored to wear Tama-chan’s face, too— _whoa_.”

The way Tamamori’s eyes widen say that he’s just as surprised as Miyata at the jolt of energy he gets when their hands touch. It’s almost strong enough to have him letting go, but Tamamori grabs on tighter and Miyata stares at him as he feels things that he hasn’t felt since the first time he held Tamamori’s hand years ago.

“You two are rather friendly today,” a bright voice sounds from next to them, and both Miyata and Tamamori pull their hands apart as Gouriki Ayame trots up to them. “I bet you’re just happy we’re on the last episode, right?”

It’s obvious that she’s teasing, and Miyata instantly likes her. He offers a casual Fujigaya smile while Tamamori leans back and folds Kitayama’s arms across his chest. “Not at all,” he replies evenly. “This has been an incredible learning experience as well as a lot of fun.”

Ayame rolls her eyes. “Kitayama-kun, you are such an _idol_.”

Miyata can’t help it—he bursts out laughing, mostly at the incredulous look on Tamamori’s face, and Ayame beams at them as they’re called to their places for the next scene and Miyata switches right back into star mode. He could get used to this, he thinks as the cameras all revolve around him and everyone’s attention is on his face, even if it’s actually Fujigaya’s.

There’s a surprise party for Kitayama just like there had been for Fujigaya on his birthday, and Tamamori has no problem with everyone congratulating him and giving him presents. Miyata watches from a distance, not wanting to make anyone too suspicious of their sudden close relationship, but he can’t take his eyes away from Kitayama’s smiling face because it’s Tamamori behind it.

“You’re so obvious,” Ayame hisses from next to him, and he nearly jumps out of his chair. “How he can’t see it on your face is beyond me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he whispers back, his heart pounding. Fujigaya is going to _kill_ him.

“You told me, remember?” Ayame says, and now her voice is gentle as she discreetly pats his arm. “You were pretty drunk that night, so maybe you don’t. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. But you should really say something to him before it gets any worse. You’re so miserable around him.”

Miyata’s eyes widen. “What… _exactly_ did I say?”

“That you’re in love with him, of course,” Ayame replies, and Miyata almost chokes on his air. “That you can’t stand to be so close to him and are purposely mean to him to cover it up.”

“I said all that?” Miyata asks.

“Taisuke-kun,” Ayame says slowly. “Have you actually buried it so deep that you don’t even know it yourself?”

Miyata stares at her, speechless because that actually sounds like something Fujigaya would do. Normally he’s open and honest about his feelings, particularly when he’s upset, but a growing attraction toward the absolute last person he ever wanted to be with would definitely be ignored.

“You’re such a nice guy underneath the whole ‘sex kitten’ facade,” Ayame tells him. “I just want you to be happy. I really think you’ll feel better if you talk to him. He doesn’t dislike you nearly as much as you pretend to dislike him.”

“Thanks,” Miyata finally says, and Ayame pats him on the shoulder as she gets up to leave him with his thoughts. She returns a few minutes later with a piece of cake, which Miyata busies himself with by eating it as he mulls all of this brand new information over in his mind.

His spirits lift considerably when he eats the strawberry slices mixed in with the cake batter, and Miyata thinks he’s going to bring Fujigaya a damn fruit basket every day just to keep him in a good mood.

*

Miyata has managed to buy them ten minutes before he’s whisked away to the next line of Fujigaya’s overflowing planner, and Tamamori’s only a little distressed to find himself dragged into a coat closet.

“Rule number one!” he hisses as he ducks on impulse, then sighs in relief when he realizes he’s not going to hit his head on anything.

“Taipi’s in love with Kitamitsu,” Miyata blurts out, and Kitayama’s body goes slack like Fujigaya had just confessed for real. “He told Gouriki-san about it while he was drunk and probably has no idea himself.”

“How do you not know that you’re in love with someone?” Tamamori asks, then smiles weakly under Miyata’s knowing look. “Oh, right.”

“That’s why,” Miyata goes on, breathing so fast that he may be in danger of hyperventilating, though Fujigaya’s body seems to be much better at handling stress than Miyata’s real one. “That’s why it felt like that when our hands touched. Oh my god, Yuuta, this is _insane_.”

“I think Kitamitsu wants him, too,” Tamamori answers, tilting his head as he tries to listen to what this foreign body is telling him. “I normally feel a pull towards you, so I didn’t notice it until right now, but it’s a different kind. More anticipation of the unknown than familiar yearning.”

Miyata gulps as he steps closer, his hands dropping to Tamamori’s waist, and it feels so weird to barely see over his shoulder. “Should we…help them out?”

The first touch of lips to his neck has Tamamori gasping, feeling heat in every nerve of Kitayama’s body, and he has to grab onto Miyata’s shoulders to stand up. “He really wants to,” Tamamori answers, struggling to think through the arousal that clouds his mind.

“Taipi does, too,” Miyata replies, sliding his hands up Tamamori’s back and mouthing his neck like he can’t control it.

“We don’t have time,” Tamamori says, though it’s only his words that protest. Even the tone they have is encouraging, Kitayama’s low bedroom voice that Tamamori has only heard him use on TV, and the way Miyata presses against him shows that it’s working.

“The way I feel right now, we don’t need time,” Miyata breathes, and Tamamori’s eyes roll back into his head when he feels Miyata hard against him. It’s nothing like when they’re in their own bodies, at least not physically, though the feeling of wanting _more_ is similar enough.

“I feel like I’m cheating,” Tamamori admits as he lifts Miyata’s head and starts to brush their lips together, then stops suddenly. “Wait.”

“ _What_ ,” Miyata whines, and it’s so reminiscent of Fujigaya that Tamamori’s a little turned off.

“We can’t do this to them,” Tamamori whispers, using all of his strength to ignore what Kitayama’s body is yelling at him as he gently pushes Miyata away. “Their first kiss should be _theirs_ , right? We can’t take that away from them.”

“You’re right,” Miyata says, looking as though it pains him to say so. “God, Taipi is so easily stimulated. No wonder he hates being that close to Kitamitsu—it has to be excruciating for him.”

“Everything makes sense now,” Tamamori says, still trying to catch his breath. “Please leave before I run out of willpower.”

“Doesn’t this remind you of our first time together?” Miyata asks with a smirk, and Tamamori unceremoniously shoves him out of the closet before they end up reliving the memory.

He’s never been so grateful to be the one who ended up in Kitayama’s body with his own apartment to jerk off as loud as he pleases the minute he gets there, his imagination a mixture of Miyata and Fujigaya as he quickly figures out how Kitayama likes to be touched and decides to be ashamed about it later.

After a nap.

*

“Did you switch back?” Senga asks curiously as they all eat catered dinner on their laps before the second show.

“No,” Fujigaya says. “Unfortunately.”

“Oh.” Senga sounds surprised. “You two haven’t argued the entire time we’ve been eating, so I thought that everything was okay now.”

Fujigaya rolls his eyes. “We don’t argue _all_ the time.”

Next to him, Kitayama snorts. “Only when he starts it.”

“Are you twelve?” Fujigaya snaps. “I have much better things to do than fight with you.”

“I’m sorry I said anything,” Senga mutters.

Fujigaya shovels food into his mouth so that he doesn’t have to talk.

“I’m sorry,” Kitayama says suddenly, and Fujigaya pauses mid-chew to find Tamamori’s face frowning at him. “I’m sorry that you ended up as Miyata and have to play second best to me _for once_ as well as pretending to actually give a fuck about me. I didn’t ask for this to happen and I’m not enjoying it nearly as much as you think I am—in fact, Tama-chan is quite sensitive and it’s really annoying that he’s so _hurt_ by you right now.”

“What are you even talking about?” Fujigaya asks, staring at his plate. “I haven’t done anything to hurt him in years, and we’ve grown up since then.”

“Not you,” Kitayama says. “It’s you as Miyata. He’s used to being close to him and you’re shunning him.”

“What are you saying?” Fujigaya asks, trying to keep himself under control because he knows exactly what Kitayama is saying.

Kitayama takes a deep breath, then scoots closer and lays his head on Fujigaya’s shoulder. It has to look ridiculous because Tamamori’s taller, but Fujigaya can’t deny the way Miyata’s nerves singe at the contact, clearly pleased with the familiarity.

“Um,” Senga says, and that little bastard is hiding a smile when Fujigaya turns to glare at him, “the next show isn’t for an hour. Maybe you two should go…work things out.”

“I hate you so much,” Fujigaya grumbles.

“Stop saying that,” Kitayama whines, punching him in the arm. “You’re going to make Tama-chan make me cry.”

Fujigaya’s arm lifts up to wrap around Kitayama’s waist without any active direction from his brain. “I actually wasn’t saying it to you this time.”

“There’s a little alcove on the top floor where they control the flying cables,” Senga tells them, looking sheepish. “As far as I know nobody knows about it but me and Nika.”

“You two too?” Fujigaya sighs. “Is there anyone in this group who isn’t screwing?”

“Not anymore,” Kitayama says pointedly as he gets to his feet and hooks his arm around Fujigaya, who grabs one last spoonful of rice before he’s dragged up three flights of stairs and thrown into a tiny room that’s about the size of tent.

“We’re not seriously doing this,” he says, laying on his back with Tamamori’s determined face staring down at him. “I don’t even know what to think right now.”

“Then don’t think,” Kitayama says firmly before leaning down to press their mouths together. It’s so wrong and so right at the same time, though if Fujigaya were being honest with himself, the only thing wrong about it is that they’re in someone else’s bodies. It’s easy to give in to Miyata’s overwhelming urges, wrapping his arms around Kitayama’s back and pulling him down on top of him, their groins lining up together naturally like they’ve done this hundreds of times—which they technically have.

It’s the first time for Fujigaya, though, with Tamamori or Kitayama. The two mix together in his mind as everything he touches is Tamamori, but everything he feels is Kitayama. It’s foreign and familiar at the same time, every movement a surprise as Fujigaya’s fingers go straight for Kitayama’s side, and Kitayama seems just as shocked as Fujigaya at the way his body trembles from the touch.

Their kiss gets real hot real fast and Fujigaya’s a little impressed with Miyata’s aggression, grabbing Kitayama’s hips to pull him down as he grinds up against him. Those moans taste nice and Fujigaya does it again, on his own this time, feeling Kitayama harden against his own growing erection through their pants. Kitayama’s hands go straight for his belt buckle, he nor Tamamori ever one to waste any time, and Fujigaya gives up trying to figure out who is actively doing what as a hand wraps around the cock that’s not actually his and knows exactly how to stroke it.

Fujigaya tosses his head back, harshly breaking their kiss as he shoves his own hand in Kitayama’s pants to return the favor. Another one of those low groans and Kitayama’s mouth is on his neck, kissing and sucking lightly enough to not leave a mark as his hips snap into Fujigaya’s touch. Fujigaya’s head tilts a bit to find Kitayama’s ear in his face, his tongue darting out to lick Tamamori’s cartilage piercing on impulse.

“Oh god,” Kitayama gasps, and suddenly everything is moving so much faster. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Fujigaya hisses, arching up into Kitayama’s hand that’s fisting him twice as fast as Fujigaya can give him in return, the pressure inside him building up stronger than ever before. “I’m close, Mitsu.”

“I’m— _ah_!” Kitayama exclaims, shuddering on top of Fujigaya as his cock spurts over Fujigaya’s hand. “Damn Tama-chan finishes quickly,” he wheezes.

“Shut up,” Fujigaya mutters, and Kitayama actually listens by fusing their mouths together, kissing him so hard that he completely muffles Fujigaya’s uncharacteristically loud moans as he finally comes.

They both lay there panting for a while, Fujigaya making a face at the mess on his hand while Kitayama just wipes his on the inside of his shirt. They’ll be getting back into costume soon enough, Fujigaya supposes, though neither one of them makes any effort to move as Kitayama leans up on his elbows and stares down at him from Tamamori’s hooded eyes.

“Miyacchi is strangely hot like this,” Kitayama comments, and Fujigaya almost laughs at the incredulity of the situation. “I can see why Tama-chan can’t stay away from him.”

“This is so fucked up,” Fujigaya says, his brain completely jumbled and his heart full.

“Stop thinking,” Kitayama tells him. “You said it’s easier just to pretend I’m Tama-chan, so go with that.”

Fujigaya decides to act on Miyata’s urge to lean up and kiss him, because it may be the last time until they’re back in their own bodies, even if Tamamori is the furthest thing from his mind right now.

*

The evening show is much easier than the afternoon one, Kitayama sailing through the all of the lines and songs and dances. He sees his mother in the audience at one point, nearly breaking character when he notices his own body sitting next to her, then smiles at the realization that Tamamori has come to check up on him.

“How’s Miyacchi holding up?” he asks after the last curtain falls, following a very awkward hug from Tamamori’s mother who quietly congratulated him on his birthday.

“He’s basically having the time of his life,” Tamamori reports, and Fujigaya’s relieved sigh comes out of nowhere. Kitayama jumps as he notices the other man right behind him, all of those confused feelings rushing back to the front of his mind. “To him, it’s like spending the day as Brad Pitt or someone.”

“Please,” Fujigaya mutters, and Kitayama’s surprised to see him actually embarrassed by the flattery. “I’m not that cool.”

Kitayama’s first instinct is to argue with him, but he swallows back the words. It’s just Tamamori’s instincts acting on Miyata’s insecurity. He hopes.

“Well, birthday boy,” Kitayama’s mom says, glancing briefly towards her real son while looking at her fake one. “Where are we going to eat?”

Tamamori replies with Kitayama’s favorite restaurant, and Kitayama’s mom makes a big show of asking Tamamori’s mom if she and her son want to come with them since they’re all already here. While they make vehicle arrangements, Kitayama looks over his shoulder to see Fujigaya standing awkwardly against the wall like he doesn’t know whether to stay or leave.

“You’re coming too, right?” he asks, and Fujigaya gapes at him.

“You want me to?” Fujigaya asks.

“Of course he does,” Tamamori answers, grinning with his entire face in a way that has Kitayama wanting to punch his own nose. “Tama-chan and Miyacchi go everywhere together.”

Kitayama isn’t sure who is more uncomfortable, he or Fujigaya, but surprisingly Fujigaya’s the better sport as he plasters a convincing grin on Miyata’s face and slings his arm around Tamamori’s shoulders. “Let’s go, then.”

It’s too late to be considered dinner, but the five of them still sit at a restaurant and order entrees. Tamamori looks moderately apologetic as he gets the birthday attention from the waiters, though Kitayama suspects that he doesn’t really feel that guilty about it, particularly the free ice cream.

Their mothers are chattering aimlessly about what could have possibly happened to make the four boys switch bodies, but Kitayama tunes them out as he notices Fujigaya picking at his plate next to him.

“Eat,” he whispers, nudging him with an elbow. “You’re in Miyata’s body, so it won’t even go straight to your gut.”

“Are we just going to act like it didn’t happen?” Fujigaya whispers back, and Kitayama almost drops his chopsticks at the sudden change of topic.

“Can we wait until my mother isn’t right across the table?” Kitayama hisses. “She’s cool and all, we’re not as tight as Tama-chan and his mom.”

Fujigaya smiles at that, shaking his head as he returns to his dinner. He’s eating with his left hand, which is strange but not completely unprecedented, though Kitayama figures out why when his wrist is inconspicuously tugged beneath the table. Fingers lace with his and his fingertips tingle at the feeling, which floods his entire body in the way that Kitayama’s starting to get used to every time he’s around Fujigaya.

“Happy birthday, Mitsu,” Fujigaya tells him, squeezing his hand when Kitayama tightens their fingers together.

*

Thinking about it now, drinking was probably a bad idea, but it’s rude to turn down an invitation from a senpai, right? Though he could have turned down those last five shots, because all he knows is how it feels to be sexy and confident and have everyone in the club looking at him like they want to fuck his brains out.

Miyata hasn’t worked directly with Kimura before, but they’re not exactly strangers. Fortunately Fujigaya hasn’t worked with him either, so Kimura may never know the truth. Miyata feels incredibly proud that he can manage to pass as Fujigaya while three sheets to the wind, though that could be because Fujigaya is considerably more cheerful and agreeable when he’s trashed.

“See something you like?” Kimura interrupts his thoughts, and Miyata shakes himself back to reality. He’d been staring off into space, except that space turned out to be a girl in a short dress with teased hair whom Miyata would have declared way out of his league before tonight. She had caught him looking and was eyeing him back, pointedly enough that he fully understood he would succeed if he made a move on her.

“Just browsing,” he tells Kimura, because it sounds awesome in his head.

Kimura laughs. “You’re young, Taipi. You should have fun while you still can. Don’t let this old married man get in your way. Do you have cab fare to get home?”

“No, don’t…” Miyata says, suddenly uncomfortable with the thought of being here alone. “I mean, I’m not—I’m seeing someone.”

His words come out quite timid, but Kimura just claps his hands and looks thoroughly amused. “You’re not what I expected at all.”

Miyata freezes, but Kimura pats him on the back and he belatedly realizes it was a compliment. “What did you expect?”

Shrugging, Kimura sips at his drink. “Cocky, playboy, spoiled. Comes with the fame, you know.”

Miyata wouldn’t know, but he nods anyway. “I see.”

“That’s good, though,” Kimura tells him. “You’ve got a decent head on your shoulders. Keep it that way and you’ll go far in this industry.”

“Yes sir,” Miyata says.

“What’s she like?” Kimura asks, then lifts an eyebrow at Miyata’s cringe. “He, whichever.”

Miyata remembers what Ayame had said about Fujigaya’s crush and doesn’t feel that guilty telling Kimura the truth. “He’s great,” he answers, feeling his face light up as he thinks about Tamamori. “We’ve been together for a long time now, and I love him with all my heart.”

“Aww.” Kimura holds up his glass and Miyata rushes to do the same. “To being loyal idols.”

“Kanpai,” Miyata replies, but he doesn’t bring his glass to his mouth. “I think I’m done drinking tonight.”

“Responsible, too,” Kimura adds. “You ready to go?”

Miyata nods and tries to stand up, nearly falling on his ass as he misjudges the floor. Laughing, Kimura helps him out of the bar and into his car, where he just nods as Miyata rattles off Kitayama’s address and tries not to get nauseous.

“You know,” Kimura says conversationally, the low tone of his voice oddly relaxing, “Kitayama-kun and I went drinking after you guys were on our show, and I dropped him off afterwards.”

“Oh,” Miyata says quietly, too drunk to have any kind of big reaction.

“All of the happiness to both of you,” is all Kimura says, and Miyata sure hopes he’s right.

*

“I need to tell you something,” Tamamori whispers to Kitayama as they both lie in his bed, each trying not to look at the other because it’s really creepy to stare at your own face that someone else controls.

“You’re a little late,” Kitayama replies bitterly. “I already figured it out.”

Tamamori narrows his eyes in confusion. “What?”

“You have this…pull towards Miyacchi,” Kitayama says, flinging his arm over his eyes like that will make it any less shameful. “I wish you would have _warned_ me, but it can’t be helped now. We worked it out.”

“You worked it out,” Tamamori repeats, no longer concerned with his own news. “What exactly did you do in my body, Kitamitsu?”

Kitayama snorts. “Nothing you haven’t done before.”

“Where?” Tamamori asks, suddenly interested. “We’ve been looking for somewhere to fool around in that theater for _two weeks_.”

“There’s an alcove on the top floor where the flying cables are,” Kitayama mumbles. “Senga told us about it. Now think about how he knows that.”

Tamamori makes a face. “Nika or Watta?”

“Who do you think?”

“Of course.” Tamamori leans back and stretches out, happy when he doesn’t bang his wrists on the headboard or kick his feet off the bed. “So how was it?”

“Shut up,” Kitayama grumbles. “If I’m not talking to him about it, I’m certainly not talking to you.”

“You haven’t—?” Tamamori starts.

“He acted like he wanted to talk about it at dinner, but then we got back here and we all went to bed.” Kitayama sighs. “I swear sometimes he’s like a fucking girl.”

“I need to tell you,” Tamamori finally says, “earlier when we were at drama filming, something happened.”

Kitayama leans over to punch him in the shoulder. “I don’t have all night, Tama-chan. Your body may be used to two musicals a day, but my mind is fucking exhausted.”

“We were in a coat closet—don’t ask—and the pull was too strong.” Tamamori is speaking fast, like Kitayama will stop him if he pauses even for a breath. “It felt completely different than I usually feel with Miyacchi, more like when we first got together. It’s that initial attraction, you know? The undeniable urge to be closer, to learn what that other person feels like.”

“If you weren’t in my body, I would kick you right now,” Kitayama says with a groan of frustration. “What did you _do_ with him.”

“Nothing,” Tamamori answers, and Kitayama snorts again. “I’m serious. I couldn’t bring myself to take your first kiss with him away from you.”

“You say that like I plan on doing it myself.” Kitayama reaches up for his pillow and bangs his elbow. “Fuck, how do you sleep like this?”

“He’s in love with you, Kitamitsu,” Tamamori says clearly, and Kitayama freezes. “He told Gouriki-san when they went out drinking before, but he doesn’t remember it. He’s been ignoring it so long that it doesn’t exist to him anymore. But when Miyacchi and I were in that closet, with him obviously not trying to suppress any hidden feelings, he couldn’t stay away from me, and you wanted it just as badly. I’d blame it on my and Miyacchi’s feelings, except that nothing about it was familiar—everything was all new and exciting.”

Kitayama doesn’t say anything for a long while, and when he does it’s prefaced by the world’s largest intake of air. “We keep holding hands,” he finally says. “First I did it to him, this morning when he was worried about Miyacchi handling all of his business, then he did it to me at dinner tonight.”

“Miyacchi and I do that a lot,” Tamamori confesses. “Hand-sans probably missed each other.”

“That’s what I kept telling myself,” Kitayama goes on. “It was just your body yearning for his. Even while we were messing around in the alcove, it was purely physical, though it took me a minute to figure out how to kiss around that nose.”

Tamamori laughs. “You get used to it.”

“The hand-holding, though.” Kitayama pauses long enough for Tamamori to think that he fell asleep, but he waits it out. “I felt something.”

“Mitsu,” Tamamori says. “I really think you should think seriously about this.”

Kitayama huffs. “What twenty-five-year-old is actually mean and avoidant to the person they like?”

“Yours,” Tamamori answers, and Kitayama tries to smother himself with his pillow.

*

“Gaya, wake up.”

Fujigaya whines, clutching his head that suddenly pounds as he glares up at Tamamori’s sleepy face. “Since when do you call me that?”

“Go sleep in the bed,” is all Kitayama says, and Fujigaya’s tired enough not to argue. He also can’t manage to walk in a straight line, feeling like he’s drunk an entire liquor cabinet as his mind spins and he barely crashes next to Kitayama’s small body that somehow manages to take up the entire bed.

He falls right back asleep, and when he wakes up, Tamamori’s snuggled nicely against his chest. Fujigaya smiles despite his headache, his heart warmed at Tamamori’s unconscious plea for affection that he usually gets with Miyata. Spending the entire day in Miyata’s body has given Fujigaya quite the insight into their relationship, the love they have for each other even if it was purely instinctual. Fujigaya hopes that he can have that kind of mindless bond with someone someday.

Having Kitayama’s actual body in his arms reminds him of what he’s been trying to forget for years, ever since he’d first looked at the other man differently and couldn’t ever shake the feeling. It was bad enough that they’d made out and gotten each other off at the theater yesterday, though the fact that it was physically Tamamori helped a lot. Now, looking down at Kitayama’s hair that can’t seem to agree on one direction and feeling a small hand on his chest, Fujigaya reluctantly allows himself the impossible fantasy that this is real and they’re actually cuddling together in bed. He’ll go back to ignoring it later when he’s fully conscious.

Fujigaya lifts his arm to push the hair out of Kitayama’s face, unconcerned with waking him. If anything, Tamamori would probably be happy to wake up curled around Miyata’s body, even if it isn’t Miyata in there. The mind is an interesting thing, Fujigaya thinks. So easy to manipulate.

Then he remembers that Miyata is considerably paler than Kitayama and pauses because the arm that’s stroking him is _not_. At that same second, the man next to him wakes up and stretches out, eyes popping wide open when he doesn’t make contact with the head or foot of the bed.

“Kitayama,” Fujigaya says, his voice deep and thick with morning, and Kitayama nods.

Fujigaya starts to pull his arm back, but Kitayama halts him. “Don’t, feels nice.”

“Kitayama—”

“You wanted to talk about it, so let’s talk about it.” Kitayama makes a small noise as Fujigaya’s fingers brush his hairline, unable to blame it on Miyata’s urges this time.

Fujigaya opens and closes his mouth a few times, then gives up. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Start with how you feel,” Kitayama says. “Right now, in your own body, lying here with me.”

“I’m happy,” Fujigaya answers instantly, and Kitayama hugs him tighter. “I feel like I got run over by about seven trucks, because Miyata clearly doesn’t know how to hold my liquor, but that doesn’t matter because…it’s you, and we’re not fighting about anything.”

“Give it time, we just woke up,” Kitayama mumbles, and Fujigaya gives a small chuckle. “Yesterday was my birthday, which Tama-chan got to celebrate more than I did, so I want you to do something for me.”

“Ugh, what,” Fujigaya whines. “I hope it doesn’t involve moving.”

“Look at me,” Kitayama says, and Fujigaya’s heart skips a beat. “Look at me without any inhibitions and see what happens.”

“Kitayama—”

“Just do it.”

It hurts to lift his head, but the pain is forgotten when he looks down at Kitayama’s sleepy face, his eyes that are barely open and his mouth that is slightly parted, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Fujigaya feels that all too familiar block that he’s long since put on these feelings, but he pushes past it and the next second has him feeling those wet lips against his own, letting out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding in through his nose as Kitayama’s arms wrap around him and pull him closer.

Then it’s over, and Fujigaya’s face is pressed into Kitayama’s neck as he trembles in his arms for reasons he doesn’t understand. “Why are you so scared to get close to me?” Kitayama asks, and suddenly Fujigaya understands everything.

“Too much is at risk,” he answers, all of his repressed feelings rushing to the front of his mind so fast that he can’t tell one from the other. “I’m sorry, Mitsu.”

“Are you sorry for your feelings or for being an absolute asshole to me to cover them up?”

“Um, both?” Fujigaya answers hopefully.

“You’re so stupid,” Kitayama says, but he follows it with a kiss to the cheek and Fujigaya turns his head to brush their lips together again. “And I’d much rather kiss around your nose than Miyata’s.”

Fujigaya bursts out laughing, mostly from the ridiculousness of this entire situation, and Kitayama shoves him clear off the bed.

“Please go take a shower, you smell like a brewery.”

“Come with me,” Fujigaya says without thinking, and the fact that Kitayama gets up without any complaints says more than words ever could.

*

They say that the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, and you don’t appreciate what you have until it’s gone, and Kitayama finds both statements to be true as his small stature allows Fujigaya to easily pin him to the tiled shower wall and fuck him hard. They’d gotten as far as brushing their teeth before Kitayama learned exactly what Tamamori had meant about Fujigaya being unable to stay away from him, all of his pent-up feelings taking over and leading the way while Kitayama did well to keep up.

Fujigaya’s a raw, passionate lover, and had Kitayama stopped to think about it before, he wouldn’t have expected anything else. Their first proper kiss left him breathless, each flick of Fujigaya’s tongue against his making his knees weak, which led to Fujigaya picking him up and holding him against the wall as they grew acquainted with each other’s (real) bodies.

Now Fujigaya rocks in and out of him, moaning softly into his mouth as he gives himself completely to Kitayama, touching him deep inside. Kitayama’s done this before, but this time is definitely different and he’s reminded of the first time he held Fujigaya’s hand as Tamamori and Miyata, and how he felt afterwards, like he was on top of the world. It’s intensified now, leaving him with no cares but the here and now and Fujigaya all around him, inside him.

He doesn’t bother trying to be quiet, because it’s his apartment and this is all those other guys’ faults anyway. He doesn’t actually think he could keep his voice down when Fujigaya hisses for him to touch himself, nibbling on his bottom lip as Kitayama complies and brings himself off as fast as he can. Fujigaya’s hips thrust faster with each jerk and Kitayama’s coming before he’s ready for it, Fujigaya holding onto him tightly as he shudders out his orgasm, and he’s taken even higher when Fujigaya follows with a low growl of Kitayama’s first name.

They end up on the floor of the bathtub, directly under the shower spray and it feels a bit like kissing in a rainstorm, or it would feel that way if Kitayama was one of those romantic saps. As it is, he can’t focus on anything except Fujigaya’s lips against his, that tongue doing wicked things in his mouth even now, and the way his skin tingles everywhere they make contact.

“Still want to pretend that I’m Tama-chan?” he teases.

“Like I could pick him up,” Fujigaya scoffs, and Kitayama has no desire to be tall anymore.

*

Miyata looks at his watch for the fifth time, wondering why the hell Fujigaya and Kitayama’s co-star wants to meet with him between shows. This is cutting into his alcove time with Tamamori, but he can’t very well tell her that.

Ayame trots up, all smiles and waving with both hands as she reaches the back wall of the theater where Miyata is waiting for her. “Good afternoon, Miyata-kun!”

“Nice to meet you,” he replies politely.

“Oh, this isn’t our first meeting,” she says with a wink. “Sorry I’m late. We just wrapped up the drama!”

“Congratulations,” Miyata says slowly, wondering when the hell he would have met her before when he wasn’t in Fujigaya’s body.

“Taisuke-kun and Kitayama-kun were quite happy,” Ayame goes on, “though not as happy as they were yesterday. But that wasn’t really them then, was it?”

Miyata just stares at her. “What do you know about yesterday?”

“Mm~” Ayame sing-songs, putting a finger to her chin in thought. “I know that it was Kitayama-kun’s birthday!”

“Gouriki-san—” Miyata starts.

“Ayame, please,” she cuts him off, then flashes him another smile. “Magic is amazing, isn’t it?”

Miyata blinks. “Magic?”

“Yeah, you know.” Ayame gestures wildly, like everything she mentions is going to appear out of thin air, and Miyata realizes that it possibly could. “Spells and potions and charms. Like Harry Potter, but not as glorified. I can’t actually fly on a broomstick.”

She looks quite put out about it, and Miyata feels a bit of sympathy for her as he tries to make sense out of her words. “ _You_ were the one who made us switch bodies?”

“Yup!” Ayame replies proudly. “I was _so_ worried that something was going to go wrong, because it was my first big spell, but everything went perfectly! I’m so happy!”

“Not that I was opposed to spending the entire day as Taipi,” Miyata begins, “but _why_? Why Tama and me? Why at all?”

“I told you, didn’t I?” Ayame says with a pout. “Taisuke-kun confided in me his feelings for Kitayama-kun. Well, more like he _alluded_ to feelings and didn’t put up much of an argument when I called him on it. What kind of witch would I be if I didn’t use my powers for good?”

“I don’t know whether to thank you or call the men in white coats for you,” Miyata tells her honestly.

Ayame laughs. “And it had to be you and Tamamori-kun because the pair of you are so close. The only way Taisuke-kun and Kitayama-kun could pull it off is to be close too, right? I actually wanted to use Nikaido-kun and Senga-kun at first, but I thought Kitayama-kun would rather be tall since it was his birthday and all.”

“Clearly you put a lot of thought into this,” Miyata says. “You didn’t manipulate their feelings, did you?

“Absolutely not,” Ayame replies, looking insulted that Miyata would even suggest it. “I don’t practice that kind of magic. Their feelings are real. They just needed a push.”

“Well, thank you, I guess.” Miyata extends his hand for her to shake, and she does so happily. “Life in our unit should be much more pleasant now.”

Her smile comes back just as quickly as it had disappeared. “There is one thing you can do to repay me, Miyata-kun.”

Miyata swallows hard, recognizing the look in her eyes from his day spent as Fujigaya. “What’s that?” he asks carefully.

She blinks cutely up at him. “Is Yokoo-kun seeing anyone?”

*

“I am so glad we only have an evening show tomorrow,” Tamamori says as they pack up after the final show that night. “I’m not getting out of bed until three in the afternoon.”

“I don’t think your mom will let that happen,” Miyata points out. “Nor mine.”

“So we should go to a hotel,” Tamamori suggests, and Miyata sputters. “Come _on_ , Miyacchi, we’ve never done that before.”

“Because both of our parents know about us and we don’t have to?”

Tamamori pouts at him, noticing the way Miyata tries to fight being affected by it. “ _Please_?”

“Fine,” Miyata agrees, and Tamamori throws his arms around him. They’re still backstage at the theater, but no one who is still there would pay them any attention. Even if they were, it’s just Tamamori and Miyata. It was a bigger scandal yesterday when they were barely speaking to each other.

“Hey,” Tamamori says suddenly, and Miyata looks up at him. Tamamori looks into his eyes for a second, feeling all of the warmth and unconditional devotion that Miyata has for him every second of every day, and presses the tip of his finger right in the middle of Miyata’s nose. “I love you just like this.”

“Really?” Miyata asks.

Tamamori nods and reaches for his hand. It feels just as it should, strong and comforting for the both of them, and Tamamori squeezes their fingers together. “Besides, Gaya could never walk into a love hotel and get us a room without being Friday’d.”

“Behold the power of the little people,” Miyata says sarcastically, but he’s smiling.


End file.
